TARA DILLARD

Thursday, September 21, 2017

Crisp & tidy, below.
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Whimsical.
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Copying a seemingly staid Garden Design Rule.
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What rule is that?
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Pic, above, here.
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Paint your garden furniture & accessories same color as your house trim/shutters. Have loved this 'rule' for decades.
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Here, they've done more than classically phone-it-in-garden-design.
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They've let the color carry the weight of architecture.
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Does your garden tell me who you are at the curb? Check.
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Is your garden so incredible I must go inside and see your home? Check.
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It's one thing to deeply, truly, adore a color. Another, entirely, to wield that color across your realm. No fear. Life is short, wield your color.
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Garden & Be Well, XO Tara
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Irma residue is almost put away on our property. Living in our ca. 1900 home for 2 years, we've done little Garden Design, it's mostly roads/drainage/shed renovations/drilling a well/pond updating/clearing invasives etc. My personal gardening consists of a pair of aloe plants in terra cotta, and an echeveria a friend gave me, repotted into terra cotta. Three little souls in terra cotta. Last weekend, watering my trio on the back deck, they did spend Irma inside the house, I noticed one of the aloe did not fit in its pot, it was dwarfed by its pot by .5" diameter. Hmm.
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Yard a debris field with fallen limbs, a new roof at the back of the house, lots of men covering ground here. Hmm. They are our men, all on our team. Several employed by Beloved loooong time. Hmm. Thinking this one thru, my little aloe in its new pot. If any of the men had broken the pot, I would have been told, "Miss Tara........" Days pass. Approached Beloved, on the deck, we were grilling dinner, "My aloe vera is in a new pot, and I know who did it." He's looking at me all stoic, his Mona Lisa smile something his mom would recognize about age 6. "You did it." A day prior, I repotted that aloe vera into another terra cotta pot, an exact fit. He looks at the pot, "If I had found a pot to fit, would you have known?", "No.", "How did you know it was me?", "The men always tell me when something happens.", "Hit it when I was blowing the deck.", "5 acres, loads of men, new roof, tree limbs, I'm a Garden Designer with 3 tiny potted plants to her name, you thought I might not notice?"
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Why are these type of stories so deeply amusing? He almost got away with it. Would have been fine if he had....

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Too many times I'm told, "We must have a lawn for the children."
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'Poppycock' my grandfather would say.
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Chose his word in mission to the front porch/yard, below.
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He was a doctor, he served in WWII. Member of the greatest generation.
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How many of the greatest generation had the ubiquitous lawn-to-play-on ? Few. Instead, it was their generation bringing that lawn into ubiquity once they returned from war.
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Fun, below. Makes me want to play seesaw too, a doll, and a dog in a wheelbarrow, plenty of running around space. Scope for the imagination as Anne of Green Gables said in earnest.
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Today, will site my oldest wheelbarrow near the fig & meadow. Laskett always follows me to the fig bush. Up he goes, into the wheelbarrow, camera click.
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Better, I'll put a vintage Christening gown on him, to wear in that wheelbarrow.
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Play. It's contagious.
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Remember well, playing quite hard growing up. Designing gardens with children, I know to give them 'flow' around entire house. Solid fence at a side of the house? Up and over they go. I did. No professor in college for horticulture mentioned 'flow' for children in Garden Design. It is intuitive.
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Twenty years in to my Garden Design career I went to a Feng Shui lecture. She, the expert, can't remember her name, certainly put 'flow' around a home into her lecture. With slides to back it up. Sweet.

Pic, above, here.
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Now, this photo reads as a scene from a movie. We traded for foundation plantings, monoculture tidy lawn, homeowner association rules, deed restrictions, and out the window went this scene, above.
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Complaints about lack of outdoor childhood play have been written about for decades now. More, scientific studies are arriving showing our bodies need many layers of microbiomes found, yes, outside. When will the study arrive proving the 'play' construct of childhood is Nature's way of getting us those Microbiomes.
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Swath of lands my childhood play included ranged from our yard, friend's yards, empty lots, the saltwater lake, a street over, behind our house, and a peninsula of land in Galveston Bay 2 blocks away. Bless that era. The peninsula, which I considered mine, is now fenced & gated, a sign-in sheet for entry, which the police check, and warnings of all types. Warnings. Seriously? It was my playground, no fear, pure fun. Different world now. More important than ever to include play spaces.
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Garden & Be Well, XO T
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More than making sure children have play spaces, make sure you have play spaces. A conservatory with vintage furnishings, invite girlfriends for lunch or in the evening for wine/canapes, best 'tea party' ever.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Ok, I get the house statement, below. Well done.
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Landscape? As my dear friend Susanne Hudson will say, dinky-is-stinky.
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Two approaches, below. First approach, quite common, decades of experience with this 'issue'. Build a fine home, there goes the landscape budget. This home, below, can handle a lower landscape budget. I would go much lower with this landscape budget.
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How?

Pic, above, here.
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Remove every foundation shrub, above, tuck lawn all-the-way to the house. Done.
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If I had the chance to live in this home, very nice, lawn to the house, and a dense evergreen hedge at the curb. More, slant the hedge higher at the right to lower at the left, copying the roof pitch in reverse.
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At present I 'see', "No budget for landscape."
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Merely removing the foundation plantings says, "Architectural choice, bold. Nothing dinky-is-stinky here."
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This home a good example, removing-ugly frees the house to breath and show its beauty. TV garden shows are always about adding landscape to make the house better. It's not uncommon, with older homes especially, removing landscape makes the house better. Perhaps this should be a named genre, Delandscaping.
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Take it away.
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Hope Delandscaping is a new arrow for your quiver. Another way to 'see' landscape.
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Garden & Be Well, XOT
.Lovely tree pruning, above. .It's not often I take out an entire foundation planting, perhaps 5-6 times in 3 decades. Yet, 100% of those 'husbands' said, "I would have ripped it out first day we moved in if I knew my house looked this good." And they all had waited years.

Friday, September 15, 2017

Concise architecture, verdant vining vertical lawn, primitive shutters, hi Victorian crenelated benches, potted plantings, no foundation plantings, gravel to the house, diminutive light above the door, the pair of poodles in welcome, no lions here, rich restraint, you have me at first glance.
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At a jobsite yesterday, this garden, below, in my head. A more formal vernacular French, yet it will be lapping gravel to the house, potted plants, benches against the home, and vine on the home.

Pic, above, here.
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Client hired me in an emergency. Angst in her voice at the first phone call. She had purchased a new smokehouse made to historic templates, and it was arriving in 2 weeks. Where to place it? Going full French, by request, I knew exactly where to place it. Bless & grace in historic Garden Design 'rules'. Zero fear siting her new 'toy'. More, she wanted it sited at the edge of their new potager and orchard. Delightful, the more constraints a garden has, the easier to design.
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Her husband is a garden zealot also, but the poor dear man travels like the wind across the globe for his career. He had to trust what we were doing with the smokehouse. Cannot imagine what that felt like for him. We knew to get the smokehouse right, it must also make him beyond happy when he returned.
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Better than siting the smokehouse correctly, we got something larger. A garden will inform you when it's pleased. Their garden said something quite nice, a huge double check. Approaching their home, from the main approach to the front door, and from a slight angle, as above, it's a Money Shot.
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Wildly excited at this discovery, I told the client right away. When she saw it, she called her husband right away. Once he got home, it was obvious to him too. Three garden nerds in a pod. High-fiving our Money Shot.
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Meeting with the grading contractor at their site today. They've got grading, and oodles of other necessities ahead of photography. You can be sure, their before/after, will include this photo, above.
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Why? Once you get the memo about Historic Garden Design Rules, you'll be using them too, they're for every site. Promise.
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Garden & Be Well, XO T
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I love Penelope Bianchi's garden. Heart-on-my-sleeve, LOVE. More pics of her garden here. Penelope Bianchi's website, here. Somehow, before internet, social media, love for Penelope Bianchi's garden arrived in a magazine article. Years pass, blogging etc arrives, and now I love Penelope too, the person, and her garden. Penelope's interior design and gardens must be imprinted onto your skillset templates. Consider this your best homework assignment ever.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

Perhaps not your cup of tea, below, but a perfect cup of tea nonetheless. Deer proof boxwood, evergreen, punctuated topiaried forms amongst the green meatballs. Low maintenance, drought proof, no bugs. Amusing, the slight stone dry stack retaining wall. Great thought went into needing/not needing it. We see which won.
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Trees lovingly pruned, small space, several rooms & hallways & walls.
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Huge invitation to enter with the pair of urns, graced with stone steps.
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Have a seat in the parlor, chairs/fence using black makes the small spaces 'larger'.
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House used wisely as the backdrop focal point. Incredible restraint with the house, great simplicity, dozens of choices made, each with the answer, 'No'. Modesty of the entire package, house & garden, displays a wise heart.

Pic, above, here.
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As time passes, above, I would prune the meatball hedges into simple hedges, no rounding, letting the rounded topiary shapes 'pop' more. Better than my thoughts, it would be more fun being friends with this gardener, above, and enjoying it unfold through their head/heart/hands.
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Great joy in getting the call from a gardening friend, "I'm going to move that hedge by the house, and put a gate in the fence near ......"
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Garden & Be Well, XO T
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Irma update. Hope it's the last. Power came on last nite, att phone service came on while we slept, over 3 days without. Beloved's team cleared, chain-sawed, raked, blew, etc. all yesterday. We're back to a new normal. Sunlight has changed with many large lost limbs, new scope for the imagination. A Georgia Power team & a Tennessee Power team got our power restored, we're on the main drive in the historic district. Side roads will get power today/tomorrow. They had greater storm damage.

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

We did a lot of work preparing for Irma. A child of hurricanes, now living in rural middle Georgia preparations were surreal, much like the ridiculous episode of Dallas, when they had a hurricane.
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Irma came, gusts into mid 50 mph range. No official speed yet. Predicted gusts into 70+ mph did not materialize. Rain gauge was an even 3". Better than 7"-10" touted at the front end.
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Our power went out early Monday morning. Still no power 48+ hrs later. Instead, loud hum of the generator. Never used a generator before. Was lockstep with Beloved while he got the generator going. From turning off the interior panel box, placement of generator, threading the thick generator cable thru the dryer vent, plugging it into the dryer socket, making sure the dryer fuse was off, then turning on the rest of the panel box, swoosh, power.
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Earlier this summer 2 fugitives killed a pair of policemen nearby. They were loose for days. Several counties slept with guns by the bed, Beloved included. Drama, finally learned to shoot. As the chase continued, it was discovered the fugitives stole a pick-up truck from the quarry a mile from our house.
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2017, the year I earned 2 new arrows for my quiver, running a generator & shooting a gun.

Pic, above, here.
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During Irma preparations on our property, tired, almost done, saw something on the harvest table, 'What has Beloved put on the table I've already cleared?' Walking past, I knew it could become a projectile. Went back, started to lean in, clear eyed, not tired anymore, an 18" water moccasin napping, or whatever, owning the space. Immediately called Beloved, he was in the Caterpillar at the back of the property. Big cavalry arrived at full speed. He climbed down from that Caterpillar, grabbed a shovel, did the deed. At some point soon, I know it's coming, snake dispatch. Not the good ones, they can go about their business.

Pic, above, here.
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At the peak of Irma gusting Beloved went into the back kitchen/laundry and discovered water running from the ceiling.
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We knew before going outside what happened, roofing peeled off in the winds.
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Beloved ran for the ladder, raining, winds gusting 50+ mph, dodging huge fallen limbs, running in the odd pattern of our pecan tree drip lines, managing not to snap an ankle with the chunky bumper crop of pecans now all on the ground, a hornets nest next to the exact ladder he needed, he's allergic, getting back to the deck/roof/me. Ladder retrieved, not quite enough, he had to go back for the extension ladder.
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Three shade umbrellas had been stowed in a shed, their 30 lbs bases still on the deck. With Beloved on the roof, raining, winds gusting 50+ mph, I marched up the ladder 3 times, and he placed those bases on the roof. Agreed, stupidest part of our actions/story.
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Has it caught your attention, in the news, anyone over 50 is 'elderly' in most stories? That would be me, and Beloved wildly elderly, over 60. When you're middle class, and elderly, this is what you do, fix your own roof during a raging storm. Both of us wearing work boots. Saw a pic of almost a dozen looters in a Florida jail Monday with a great caption, "Not a pair of work boots among them."
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Late Monday Beloved 'had' to go investigate our hamlet in middle rural Georgia. We got in his truck, chain saw in back. Areas were pristine, or a debris field. On schedule, he came to a pine tree in the road. Not a problem, a few cuts later, tossing chunks to the side, the road clear. Beloved also helped others prepare for Irma. Some, Millenials. He's a good man, elderly helping the young. (Ok, will try to leave it alone but such a piquant lagniappe.)
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Odd, it must be the Texas in me, I don't want Beloved 'having' to take care of me. Would rather him go help others, he's got the know-how and tools, and the heart of a helper, an Ezra. He's too valuable a resource during emergencies to help only '1'. Hence, learning to run a generator, shoot a gun, and determined to kill my own poisonous snakes.
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Garden & Be Well, XO T
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Growing up on Galveston Bay in the 1960's, during hurricanes, looters were shot, dead. Last nite with entire town blacked out, oh my the stars, and Milky Way. It's not often I can navigate by the mercury lite of the Milky Way.
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Chickens back in their coop late yesterday morning, gifted me with an egg not much later.
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Hamlet? Noticed long ago, in the NYTimes, how a story would lean, always predicated by the descriptor of the town. Perhaps, 'In this agricultural town past its prime....', 'In the pastoral historic district......', 'In the unkempt pastures......', 'Nestled in the rolling Piedmont hills......', 'At the edge of the interstate....', 'In the place they call Mayberry.....' Yes, all of these could be used for my dear 'hamlet', dozens more......
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Before hurricane Harvey my sister went to the other side of Houston, to evacuate my mother who lives on salt water. Mom refused. Sister had to leave, or get stuck. Sister's side of Houston had to evacuate, she went to Huntsville, TX. Her stress at evacuation, plus, having left mom, off the charts. Once I was phoned about the split, my stress hit the charts, I phoned mom's local police department. Incredibly helpful/kind, they also let me know, once the storm hit, they would not be going on rescues, too dangerous. Rightfully so. My phone/email were put on mom's police department emergency updates, huge help. Thank you, Nassau Bay Police Department.
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The memo is clear with these storms, especially, Irma. Beloved is an Ezra, and my job is to be his Ezra, while he's performing on the macro stage. Don't want him worried about me or spending his macro-Ezra-time with me, when he can be helping those truly in need.
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My grandmother came from a large farm family in Robeson county, NC. The farm a land grant from King George. Still, owned by family. I never met her dear oldest brother Ezra. An RN, my grandmother was at her brother Ezra's bedside when he died. When he lifted up in bed, and began talking to their parents, smiling, eyes clear, voice strong & happy, grandma knew there was no known medical possibility of him doing just that. Their parents long dead, Ezra's body infirm & diseased. Ezra was gone moments later, after his head lay back on the pillow. I grew up with this story, and a strong curiosity about this Ezra who grandma loved/admired so much. Ezra, from the bible, means, helper.
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Made first outing this afternoon, to the dump, and post office. Nice to get some loud rock, performing the mundane, traveling far in my head with U2, One Love.
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Praying for those affected by Irma & Harvey. In thanks to those who help/rescue/aid.

Monday, September 11, 2017

Power off, generator on. Irma is here, middle rural Georgia. Since last Thursday huge amounts of Florida traffic heading north along our country lanes. Gas expensive since Harvey, stations here run out of gas, then have it again within 24 hours.
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Last weekend spent prepping for the storm. Our century old pecan trees and 75 mph winds on the roof main concerns. Pecan trees are already quaking from top/bottom in the winds, only about 45mph at present. Each, an old soul.
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Placed huge dog crate into chicken coop yesterday, let the girls get used to it. Water bowl wired to the side, their food/water already awaiting under the house, safe from 'critters' in a metal box. Beloved/me just in from getting the chicks into crate, under the house snug/dry/safe.
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Their coop is sited strategically at a canopy opening amongst pecan trees. No it wasn't easy getting their fast maneuvers into the crate. One gust arrived and I saw the headline, Elderly Couple Dead in Chicken Coop, Chickens Survived.

Pic, above, here.
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If this were my greenhouse, above, my chicks would not be allowed inside, no matter how good the photography. My girls would have every pot knocked over/off within minutes.
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Getting ready for Irma Saturday/Sunday it was amazing to watch chickens and cats, all knew. Hyper vigilant. Hyper movements. What was it they were responding to? Air pressure? Winds weren't bad. Scents?
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Air in the garden is scented with the fragrance of pecan wood. Prepping our 5 acres and ca. 1900 home I felt the house here to take care of us, and our work for the house, a gift of stewardship. Kindred spirits with each former owner.
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Harvey came very close to my mom & sister in Houston, both remained dry, kept electricity. Flooding on mom's block, flooding 4 blocks from sister. Sister is in Katy, and flood waters near her not expected to go down until December. Police & military a large presence in her area, and she's glad of it. Gas difficult for each to find.
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And Florida. Beloved & I have a favorite destination. Cheap tickets on Southwest, rent a convertible, and a week in the Keys. How else to calm the eyes/brain from designing gardens? Beauty of the Keys, and their pace, beyond sublime. Praying for the best in Florida, Texas, Georgia.
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Watching the pecans sway in the larger gusts from branch tips, inner branches, upper trunk, lower trunk, at the ground, sensing the roots moving just-so in a swaying waltz from ground to highest branch tips, to survive, I hear C.S.Lewis, writing of trees, and how they walk....
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"Awake. Love. Think. Speak. Be walking trees. Be talking beasts. Be Divine waters."
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"Look for the valleys, the green places, and fly through them. There Will always be a way through."

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"This world is bursting with life for these few days because the song with which I called it into life still hangs in the air and rumbles in the ground. It will not be so for long. But I cannot tell that to this old sinner, and I cannot comfort him either; he has made himself unable to hear my voice. If I spoke to him, he would hear only growlings and roarings. Oh, Adam's son, how cleverly you defend yourself against all that might do you good!”

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C.S. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew

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Garden & Be Well, XO T

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Again, many notes/calls/texts, thank you for each. As I am wished the best, and sent prayers, in return, you have my best wishes, prayers, love.

Friday, September 8, 2017

How is it chair & table, below, appear grown from the trees?
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Never have I seen faux bois this beautiful. Nor so well mated to its site.
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The impression deep, I pinned it to my own pinterest garden board. Perhaps, one of my century old pecan trees could handle this type of faux bois. Two years in our ca. 1900 house and 99.8% of what I see for gardens does not pass go for our garden.
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If the grass, below, were grown as Tara Turf, and the table/chair set at angles more appropriately, below, the scene becomes, timeless. Appropriate angles? Chair/table must appear in relationship to the person who just left after reading a long letter from a dear friend while drinking hot tea. Demand much? Yes.
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My tribe understands, 2-3 for lunch in the Conservatory, and ask their thoughts for exact table/chair placement. Probably a good 15 minute discussion. With added time for going into the vignette, adjusting, walking away for perspective, going in to adjust again.

.Diane Husson, sculptor, designs & creates by hand the faux bois, above. Each piece unique, no molds. Glad her name was on the pic, above.
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From her website, " My latest quest is to make sculpted concrete faux bois furniture that appears to be formed from live branches and still growing curious vines. These benches, chairs and tables are created to look like artifacts from an ancient civilization where the boundaries between nature and the spirit world were paper thin, and some secret wisdom is waiting patiently to be rediscovered. "
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She's succeeding in her quest.
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Garden & Be Well, XO T
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This is not a sponsored post. Wildly impressed with Diane Husson's work. She also creates large scale art pieces for commercial clients.

Thursday, September 7, 2017

Last month, earnest conversation with Beloved about my garden topiaries for inside the house, made the poor man more confused at my reasoning, methods, plodding. Not that he wasn't already deeply confused by my winning trinity.
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Wickedly I decided to mention full-on my topiaries. Understand, at present, zero exist. Exactly the excitement of embarkation of a quest realm. Dear, dear Beloved, poor- unfortunate-soul, as one Disney (The Little Mermaid) movie sings. Been trodding this path before meeting him. Real path to me, a path he can't see, not real to him. Velveteen Rabbit hasn't had quite all his hair loved off .
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Topiaries delayed, moving from my house of 30 years, into our ca. 1900 house 2 years ago. No worries, soon soon will build my conservatory here. Perhaps 2. A small garden shed has a tin roof at front, and another at back. Built for tractors to park, instead, will source old windows, hire the carpenter, voila, a pair of conservatories. One will have modest heat. Obviously for the topiaries to overwinter, when they are off display from the house. Exactly how serious I am about 'my' topiaries.
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A pair of vintage florist stair-stepped wire shelves are already on the front porch, awaiting their spring/summer/fall use for many topiaries, quickly swapping inside/outside.
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Beloved considers this topiary quest merely another Don Quixote tilting at windmills. Stupid, doomed to failure, waste of time. No worries, I do have a great love, Laskett, on this path to topiaries, loving each moment of it. Good enough for me.
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Much laughter seeing Architectural Digest's new article about Tory Burch, below. Obviously her hair has all been loved off, her decorator's, Daniel Romualdez, too. Topiaries, front/center.

Pic, above, here.
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Once topiaries are in the house, in the conservatory, on the vintage florist wire shelves, I'm copying the pic, below. Our house has a graveled front parking court. Will source the blouse, below, at local thrift store, and wax-shine my ugly little service van, Tess. So ugly she's cute, type of ugly. More, Tess is fun while being useful.

Pic, above, here.
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Collateral to topiaries is Bunny Mellon's garden, below. When I saw this pic, had never seen another garden designed exactly like mine. Curiosity to discover the brain behind it led me to Bunny Mellon. And, her topiaries.

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Planted as mundane, cliche, just-enough-to-get-by, socially acceptable, stale, ubiquitous, time passed, someone decided to enjoy the canvas.
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With great resource of mind, no money, the banal came alive.

Amazing how many clients have already taken the stale of their landscape, and begun its new story of grace and whimsy before hiring me. Not knowing where it's headed, trusting the digging, pruning, and pure exhilaration , knowing its path has a destination into realms unknown yet filled with the oxygen of their new life.
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What a ride I get to share with so many. Knowing up front much of what will unfold, excepting the best details of unique grace, joy, wonk, fun. Providence in the details.
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Garden & Be Well, XOT
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Of course I'm well aware of earthlings having zero trust for any of the above. Was raised to be one of those widget earthlings. Bless the bad times, without them no choice to enter the Garden. And, stay put ! Go ahead scare yourself. Best ride ever. Promise.
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No? At a minimum order so many daffodil bulbs that you scare yourself at the price. Must start somewhere.

Friday, September 1, 2017

After acquiring an American degree in horticulture, educated to be a guy in a truck mowing grass, blowing clippings, siting plants in outcurves/incurves to grow oversized for extra monetizing pruning, needful of fertilizer, chemicals to kill Nature, and a real nice irrigation system, let's not forget the yearly replenishment of mulch, and twice yearly exchange of colorful annuals, all bundled into a tidy yearly contract, $$$. Hey, who needs more? Me.
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Late 20's when I began decades of European travel, studying historic gardens, I didn't have words to describe what I was seeking, only words describing what I didn't want about gardens, a few above. In lieu of words, I was listening to my heart. Traipsing off, sure of discovery, unaware a pupil of E.M.Forster for sure.
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Blessedly, the first study tour, England & mostly Scotland, I got the memo. More, the memo arrived, narrated by General Patton, aka George C. Scott.

Pic, above, here.
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When I hosted my own garden show on CBS-TV their mantra was, don't-tell-me-SHOW-me.
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Exactly how I learned across Europe. Their historic gardens full of show, and loaded with delightfully intuitive conversation, 'tell', from all the gardeners & owners the sites had the privilege of working with across centuries.
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Quite the example, SHOW, above. About lost all my knee strength seeing this, decades ago. Understanding ALL. Immediately, understanding all. Where that comes from, intuitive understanding, aka epiphany or koan, I metaphor to my Muse. Like it was said toward the end of Dr. Zhivago, 'A gift'.
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In hindsight I went to Europe a horticulturist/plantswoman, returned a Garden Designer. If I was told this would happen, zero chance I would have believed it. None.
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What did I hear General Patton say from all those years ago? "Rommel, you magnificent bastard, I read your book!" Quite the proper image popping into mind. Bombs exploding, Patton winning, he spoke like a warrior, the type I knew. Age 10, seeing the film when it came out at the theater with my family. Dad the NASA engineer made it obvious Patton had nothing on him with language or results. Though, sister/me were deeply impressed at the dinner table one evening, while Chris Craft was director at JSC, dad said, "Chris Craft has the foulest mouth of any man I've met." We silently made knowing eye contact, "We must hear this Chris Craft." Ha, never did. But the awe remains. Amusing, now, when Beloved says, "You can dog cuss." A skill I don't use often, perhaps when the little toe on the right foot is broken standing on the bow of a boat trying to hitch the hook from the hoist inside the boathouse.
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Patton's bombs exploding, from the clip, are pure Joseph Campbell, Power of Myth, slaying the dragon, every scale of its hide a metaphor of "Thou Shalt."
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Why tell these stories, above? These stories are the people hiring me, for decades. People who've intuited their rabbit hole, gone in a little, maybe a great distance, yet for the Thou Shalt's of their lives, not the full distance. Job, children, health, many Thou Shalt's, yet intuiting all, without words, just able to still hear a bit of their distant heart. My life, needing to work for filthy lucre yet a heart unable to stay in the dire depths of Thou Shalt, instead, creating my own job, and taking it. Collateral with infertility, a great wealth of time granted, honoring that gift, jumping into the rabbit hole, seeking & finding what the heart spoke without words.
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Garden & Be Well, XOT
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JOSEPH CAMPBELL (words of Chief Seattle, 1852): “The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky, the land? The idea is strange to us. Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, all are holy in the memory and experience of my people. We’re part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. Each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water’s murmur is the voice of my father’s father; the rivers are our brothers. They carry our canoes and feed our children.

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If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. This we know: the earth does not belong to man. Man belongs to the earth. All things are connected, like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

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“Your destiny is a mystery to us. What will happen when the buffalo are all slaughtered? What will happen when the secret comers of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men, and the view of the ripe hills is blotted by talking wires? The end of living and the beginning of survival. When the last red man has vanished with his wilderness and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here? Will there be any spirit of my people left? We love this earth as the newborn loves its mother’s heartbeat. So, if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it; care for it as we’ve cared for it, hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you receive it. .Preserve the land for all children and love it, as God loves us all. One thing we know, there is only one God; no man be he red man or white man can be apart. We are brothers, after all.”
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Bold letters mine. The 'dire' I had to run from, choosing to live, not merely survive. Beware of choosing to live, it rocks the boat for others in your life. Bigly.

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Macro: Islands in the gravel, no edges. Meandering flow, as if the gravel were water.
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Micro: Small space, high function, drifts of plantings make the space 'larger' axis views into beauty from the home.
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Crazy: Using green-meatballs and I like them.

Pic, above, here.
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Garden Design Class, above, in a single pic. Color echoes a delight, furniture choices/materials perfect.
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Garden & Be Well, XOT
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Thank you for continued calls, texts, emails about Harvey in Houston. Mom is dry, kept her power, worst damage are fronds from her palm trees fell. She said they needed pruning anyway. Many homes in her neighborhood flooded. Sister still evacuated, home is dry, and a scare this morning with new mandatory evacuations placed on her neighborhood. Put her address into the interactive map, she's 4 blocks away. Hundreds of homes already flooded in her neighborhood, ahead of this new mandatory evacuation. Keeping hope, she too stays dry. Prayers for all, people/pets/wildlife/livestock, affected by Harvey.